


the sound of this movie remind me of your eyes

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Flirting, Cafe Leblanc (Persona 5), Established Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: Ryuji didn’t expect to fall in love on a muggy Saturday morning.[connected works set in the same college au for pegoryu week]





	1. first meetings

**Author's Note:**

> i dived headfirst into this ship and ryuji is always best boi for me but i have never played the game, so i did what i know best and went with a college au for this week.  
> i'm using "kurusu akira" bc "amamiya ren" feels like a different person to me and for this au, it's gotta be dumbass badboy akira for me, gomen
> 
> fic title from crowd lu's [我愛你](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ61ijAVT4w)

Ryuji didn’t expect to fall in love on a muggy Saturday morning.

He shouldn’t even be up this early on a Saturday, considering it’s one of the few days where he’s allowed to sleep in. And ever since entering college, sleep is about one of the only joys he has left. But Ryuji is a nice guy and a wonderful friend, which is why he’s out here sweating in his wrinkled tank top and cargo shorts instead of back home tucked into his bed.

Ann better be grateful.

The coffeeshop that she texted him is unfamiliar to him. He squints at the map on his phone, wondering if he’s missed it somehow. He’s attended this school for nearly two years now yet he’s never heard of this place despite it supposedly being in walking distance of the campus. Then again, he’s not really one for coffee.

He turns the corner and finally spots the plain-looking  _ LeBlanc _ sign. He sighs in relief. It’s not the first time Ann sent him the wrong directions.

Tucking his phone into his pocket, Ryuji pushes open the door in time to hear frantic raised voices.

“—I’m telling you—”

“—expect me to believe that?”

The person standing behind the counter looks up when the door jingles. The woman does not. Ryuji is about to politely show himself out and not get involved, thank you very much, when the person behind the counter points at him.

“See, there he is! My boyfriend!”

The woman finally turns and glares at him. Ryuji is frozen in the doorway. The guy behind the counter—skinny, pale, a mess of black curls and geeky glasses and somehow the prettiest person Ryuji has ever laid eyes on (which is saying a lot, considering he’s friends with one Takamaki Ann)—is gesturing at him behind the woman’s head to  _ play along _ . 

“This,” the woman says, eyes flicking up and down Ryuji’s body disapprovingly, “is the reason you won’t give me your number?”

“Yeah,” the barista guy says, “Also it’s highly inappropriate considering I’m still on the clock?”

As the woman is gearing up to say something more, Ryuji unfreezes himself and steps towards the counter. “Hey, boyfriend,” he says brightly, “is this person bothering you?”

“Excuse me?”

Ryuji flashes the woman a smile. “Sorry, miss, but he’s very clearly taken. We’re in love. Try your luck at some other coffeeshop, okay?”

They both watch the woman sputter and storm out the door. The elderly couple in the corner booth pays them no mind. When the door slams shut, Ryuji turns back around to the barista. Wide gray eyes stare back at him.

“Uh, hi,” says Ryuji. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” the guy says. “Thanks. And sorry about that.”

Ryuji shrugs. “That happen a lot?”

“Not frequently. Just sometimes.”

“Ladies magnet, are ya?”

The guy gives him a shrug back, but unless Ryuji’s eyes are deceiving him, that’s definitely a blush on his face. “She’s too old for me.”

“Yeah? So am I lucky enough to fall into the category of ‘your type’?”

As soon as the words fall out of his mouth, Ryuji can feel his own blush flooding his face. His ma always said he was born missing a filter between his mouth and brain—not unkindly, she always said that’s one of the things she loved about him, because he was stupidly honest that way—and it always shows at the worst of times. Like now. When it’s just sinking in how absolutely adorable he finds this barista, from the stained green apron to the fluffy black curls to the slender piano-fingers tapping idly on the counter. When he should be laughing off the awkward situation that occurred not five minutes ago and be on his merry way.  _ Not  _ trying to flirt with a guy that was clearly desperate to escape potential suitors. Ann’s always said he couldn’t flirt his way out of a paper bag, anyway.

He’s about to make a run for it, Ann’s coffee be damned, when the guy goes, “Well, I sure hope so. Considering you’re apparently my boyfriend now.”

And Ryuji, heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears, meets his gaze and somehow manages to hold it. “Do I,” he says, “get to know my boyfriend’s name, then?”

“Akira. Akira’s fine.”

“Nice. I’m Ryuji.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

They stand there smiling at each other for a moment before the door jingles again as the elderly couples leaves. Ryuji coughs. Akira moves his hands around, half-aborted movements as they both find something else to be absolutely fascinated in. 

“So,” Akira says eventually, “I’m guessing you actually came here for something other than rescuing me. Coffee? Or curry?”

“Curry?”

Akira shrugs. “Boss does make a mean curry. Eat in only, though.”

“Damn, now I really wanna try some.” Ryuji pulls out his phone to show him “Unfortunately, I’m here for somebody else’s coffee.”

“Oh, you’re friends with Ann?”

“Yeah, you know her?”

“We share a few classes together.”

“Oh, nice.”

“You sure you don’t want anything?”

Ryuji shakes his head. “Not really a fan of coffee, you know?”

“Let me guess, sweet tooth?”

“How did you know?”

That gets him a cheeky smile. It goes straight to Ryuji’s heart. “Mind-reading is just one of my many skills, babe.”

Ryuji definitely does  _ not  _ flush at the teasing endearment. 

In the end, Akira convinces him to stay while he whips up an extra sweet caramel-mocha latte. Ryuji finds himself seated across the counter, laughing with the guy like they’ve known each other for years. It’s not a bad time. It’s a fantastic time, actually. Akira laughs at all his jokes, covering his mouth with his hand but not stopping the bubbly sound of his mirth. Ryuji has the stray thought that he’d like to make him laugh as much as he can, as long as he can.

When Ann finally emerges from making out with Shiho and starts to blow up Ryuji’s phone, the latte is completely gone. He leaves with a smile on his face and a new number in his phone.

Saturday mornings, Ryuji thinks, might not be so bad after all.

 


	2. first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys hang out and figure it out, eventually.

Akira’s waiting for him in the train station, leaning against the wall by the escalators and looking all casual and so very cool. Ryuji definitely doesn’t linger by the ticket gates to stare at him.

“Hey,” says Ryuji, walking up to him and offering a hand for a fistbump. 

“Hey, yourself,” Akira says.

“No cat today?”

“Nah. Boss is taking Mona to the vet today.”

Ryuji raises his eyebrows. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, just a checkup.”

“Cool.” Ryuji sticks his hands in his pockets. “So what did you have in mind today?”

“Not running,” Akira replies immediately.

Ryuji laughs. “C’mon, you like the running. You get to feel good about being active  _ and _ ,” he gives Akira an exaggerated wink, “you get to spend time with me.”

“Always a plus,” Akira says dryly. He turns towards the escalator. “I was thinking we hit up the arcade first. Got a plush I promised Futaba I would get her.”

“Oh, yikes, guess we’re not going home empty-handed, then.”

“Not if you want to suffer Futaba’s wrath.”

They both shudder, because if there’s one thing scarier than Ann’s wrath, it’s Futaba’s wrath, which is less violent but more guilt-inducing. She just looks at you all disappointed, and then you feel like a horrible, despicable human being for breaking the heart of a poor little high schooler. Even if said high schooler has pulled bigger and badder pranks on you just for kicks, like, every other day. 

That’s not even including what would happen if Boss finds out you’ve hurt his daughter’s feelings.

The arcade is filled with kids taking advantage of the lazy weekend. Ryuji feels right at home. He follows Akira as he makes a beeline for the prize claw machines. They camp out in front of the one that holds about four dozen floppy-looking alien plushies, all brightly and proudly neon-coloured. Ryuji has no idea why Futaba thought they looked cute since his eyes hurt the longer he looked at them, but Futaba also knows how to hack his phone and change all his contacts’ names to characters featured in Super Smash Sisters, so. That’s one battle he’s not going to pick.

“Which one, do you think?”

Ryuji shrugs. “Which one is highest on the pile?”

Akira glances at him sideways. “Are you telling me to play on easy mode?”

“There’s an easy mode for these things?”

He leans against the next machine as he watches Akira lean in close to the glass in concentration. The bag of coins they traded for swings idly in Ryuji’s hand. Akira’s concentration face is intense in the way Akira does most things: quiet and determined. His eyes narrow, his curly fringe kiss the top of his glasses, his teeth peek out to bite his bottom lip. He looks younger, a bit more arrogant than his usual subtle grace. But Ryuji has a hard time tearing his eyes away, anyway.

“Aw, come on,” Akira mutters. His nose is practically plastered against the glass now. “Did you see that? Look at that. It’s taunting me. I can hear it.”

A neon orange alien plush is balanced precariously and stubbornly on the little plastic divider before the drop. Ryuji hands him another coin. 

“You got this,” he says. “I believe in you.”

Akira looks at him. Ryuji stares back and pretends that his heart doesn’t skip a beat under the weight of those calm gray eyes.

“I know,” is all Akira says.

They exit the arcade two hours later, Akira’s bag full of new plushies and a new high score on the two-player monster shooter. Ryuji leads the way to their favourite ramen place. It’s a tiny shop tucked away in between an electronics store and a bookstore, but it’s one of his favourite places ever since he stumbled across it one rainy afternoon after a disastrous Japanese literature test. It’s definitely one of his favourite places when Akira becomes a fixture in the seat next to his.

“The usual for you boys?” the owner greets them when they push open the door.

“Thanks, old man!”

Akira carefully places his bag underneath their chairs. “Hey, thanks,” he says to Ryuji, “for coming along today.”

“Nah. Not like I had any plans.”

“Not even sleeping for the whole day?”

“That would have been great, too.” Ryuji leans his elbows on the counter as he grins at Akira. “But how could I pass up a chance to spend time with you?”

“Stop,” Akira says dryly, “you’re making me blush.”

“That means I’m doing my job right, aren’t I, boyfriend?”

They both laugh, the long-running gag never losing its hilarity. Not even Ann’s teasing managed to take away the sheer ridiculousness of their first meeting. Ryuji doesn’t mind. He has no regrets about meeting Akira at all.

They spend the rest of the afternoon walking through the streets of Shibuya, talking about nothing and everything. Akira likes to windowshop, stopping on a whim and peering inside even if he has no real intentions of buying something. Ryuji trails after him, picking out strange new clothes or pointing at books with weird titles and covers just to make Akira do that adorable thing with his face, something between an exasperated eye-roll and a fond smile. The crowds are thick and thrumming with noise, but Ryuji pays no mind at all. He just sees Akira, with his stupid messy hair that’s never heard of a comb, and the way those gray eyes linger on him when he opens his mouth to say something stupid. 

Ryuji’s never felt stupid around Akira.

It’s later, when they’re both waiting for the train as the sun begins to set, that something occurs to Ryuji. He’s fiddling with a new keychain that Akira bought him despite his protests. There’s a matching one already hanging from Akira’s bag. His stomach is full from dinner and he feels all warm and content, like when he goes home he’ll make a beeline straight for his bed and fall asleep with a smile on his face. Like he does whenever he drifts off mid-text to Akira and wakes up to a spam of ugly cat stickers in their chat. 

“Hey, Akira,” he says slowly.

“Hm?”

“Is this a date? Did we go on a date today?”

Akira blinks at him. Ryuji watches as his gaze slides away, considering, before moving back to Ryuji again. 

“Do you want it to be?”

Ryuji frowns a bit. But he doesn’t really need to think about it. He nods.

Akira hums. “Then I guess it is a date.”

“Does that mean we’re... dating now?”

“Guess so.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.” Akira tilts his head, and there’s that smirk of his, the one that gets on Ryuji’s nerve every time, just as much as it sends tingles down his spine. “Nice to meet you again, boyfriend.”

Ryuji shoves him, but he’s smiling, too.

They’re on the train and two stops past when he suddenly groans. Akira sends him a concerned glance, but Ryuji just slaps a hand to his face. 

“Ann’s never going to let us live this down!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhere, ann is popping champagne and yelling "you useless gays"


	3. birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryuji's friends make sure he has the best dang day ever.

Ryuji wakes to his phone chirping at him incoming messages. He rubs sleep out of his eyes as he reaches across the bed towards his desk.

There’s a barrage of notifications from classmates and high school friends wishing him a happy birthday, and a few emails from various apps and services he signed up for about birthday coupons. He saves them, likes all the posts with birthday wishes, and then opens LINE. Ann wishes him a happy birthday in all caps, Shiho sends her regards, Futaba sent him a bunch of birthday stickers. He smiles at them, scrolling further down.

The chatroom with Akira remains on _read_ from where they left off last night.

Ryuji doesn’t feel upset. He knows Akira is a deep sleeper. He knows Akira likes to sleep in more than he does. Ryuji can wait until he wakes up.

He finds his mother in the kitchen, carefully pouring out noodles into two bowls. She’s dressed for work, her hair pinned up and stockings on. The apartment smells like cooked beef and garlic and all of Ryuji’s favourite things.

“Hi, ma,” Ryuji says, opening the fridge to find the container of green onions he chopped a few days ago.

“Ryuji!” His ma gives him a smile over her shoulder. “Didn’t expect you to be up already. Happy birthday, kiddo.”

“Thanks. Did you get up early just to make that?”

His ma laughs. She puts the empty pot into the sink, letting the water run. She reaches for the _onsen tamago_ and plops them onto the noodles. It looks absolutely delicious. Ryuji’s mouth is watering already.

“Of course I had to make birthday noodles for my favourite birthday boy.”

Ryuji busies himself with sprinkling the onions over the bowls even though they both know he’s blushing. “I’m your only birthday boy.”

His ma ruffles his hair as he carries the bowls over to the table. “I have double shift today,” she tells him. “I wanted to at least have a meal with you before I go. Sorry I can’t be home to celebrate with you.”

“It’s fine. Breakfast noodles are already more than enough, ma. Thanks.”

“Do you have plans with your friends today?”

Ryuji shrugs. He glances at his phone, but there’s no new messages. More notifications from his social media accounts, but not from the people he’s waiting for.

“Well,” his ma says, “at least you have the day off. I won’t be back until late. Treat yourself to something tonight, okay?”

“I’m fine, ma.”

“I insist.”

Ryuji takes the bills that his ma pushes across the table. He won’t spend it, but he makes a show of tucking it into his pockets. “Thanks, ma.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

When the door shuts behind her, Ryuji pulls out his phone and checks his messages again. Nothing new. His thumb hovers over Akira’s name. He puts the phone down. He feels restless, but he doesn’t know why. Or, really, he muses, he doesn’t want to admit why.

He’s putting away the clean bowls when his phone finally rings. Ryuji definitely does not smash his elbow against the cabinet trying to reach his phone.

“H’llo?”

“Hey, birthday boy,” Akira says. Then pauses. “Birthday boyfriend?”

Ryuji laughs. He hopes Akira doesn’t hear the relief in the sound. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“What are you talking about? I always make sense.”

“Sure, sure.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Uh, nothing? Just finished washing the dishes.”

Akira gives a low hum. “That’s not sexy at all.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, boyfriend.”

“But you don’t have plans today, right? If you do, cancel them.”

“Uh, rude? Why?”

“Why else?” Akira says. Ryuji can hear the grin in his voice. “We’re throwing you a party, babe.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

“Honestly, I think Ann just wants the excuse to have cake.”

Ryuji snorts. “You’re probably right.”

“Anyway, come over to the cafe in, uh, two hours or so? You could come over now but Makoto will probably make you set up your own party.”

“Guess I’ll kill time for two hours, then.”

“See you soon.”

“See ya.”

Ryuji puts his phone back down on the table and just stares at it, smiling stupidly for a moment. He has the bestest friends in the entire world.

 

 

 

When Ryuji pushes open the door to _Cafe Leblanc_ , he’s received by someone shrieking his name and then a flurry of movement as everyone rushes over. A confetti popper goes off in his face. He catches the flash of a camera. Probably Ann and Futaba working together to capture his dumbest face. But Ryuji’s chest is so full he doesn’t even mind.

He knew this was coming. He knew, but it still takes him by surprise. No one has thrown him a birthday party like this since he was... small. Back in middle school probably, his track team working with his ma behind his back. He’s a grown-ass dude now but somewhere deep down, Ryuji’s always lived for this kind of stuff. He’s just convinced himself he didn’t need things like this.

But everyone is here today—Makoto, who tutors him patiently even though she has so many duties to attend to as president of the student society; Haru-san, a senpai in both school and the flowershop he works at; Yusuke, Akira’s weird artsy roommate who Ryuji can never figure out but can’t seem to dislike; Ann and Shiho; Futaba, that little shit. He spots Mishima in the corner there, roped into helping Sojiro prepare the food behind the counter. Even Akechi is here, who’s always claimed he can’t stand Ryuji but continued to work with him on group projects in their shared classes anyway.

And Akira. Standing right in front of him, smirking that stupid smirk of his, eyes alight with amusement at the way Ryuji is frozen in the doorway, confetti strips on his clothes and a fuzzy birthday hat jammed on his head by somebody in the welcoming frenzy.

“Oh, shit,” Futaba’s voice pipes up from the crowd. “Is he crying?”

“Shut up,” Ryuji says, totally not wiping his eyes on his arm, “I’m allergic to you.”

“Come on, birthday boy,” Ann says. She reaches out to tug on his hand. “Now that you’re here, we can finally get things started!”

“You’ve just been waiting for me to cut the cake,” Ryuji accuses.

Ann sticks her tongue out at him. He laughs, and lets himself be dragged along.

It’s later, when everyone is spread out in smaller groups, food scattered and drinks passed around, that Ryuji finds himself pressed next to Akira in one of the booths. His plate is a mess of pizza and cake. He watches Akira carefully pull the cherry free from the whipped cream.

“Can’t believe Boss let you guys use the cafe,” he says.

Akira grins at him. “I know his weak spot.”

“Futaba,” they both say in unison.

Ryuji laughs, and Akira smiles at him. He bumps their shoulders together. “Thanks, man. This really means a lot to me.”

Akira leans back against him. His weight is a warm, comforting thing. “Anything for you, boyfriend,” Akira says, and Ryuji wants to kiss the spot of whipped cream off that dorky smile.

He does, and he has a split second to bask in the satisfaction of seeing Akira’s eyes widen before Ann is hollering across the cafe.

“We have a no PDA rule!” she yells, pointing her manicured finger at them. “Put five yen in the PDA jar, Ryuji!”

“But I’m the birthday boy,” he protests.

“Birthday boys don’t get immunity!”

Ryuji boos, but Akira is laughing now, head ducked down and entire body sideways on Ryuji. His gaze slip away from Ann to look at this wonderful, wonderful boy beside him.

“Happy birthday, Ryuji,” Akira says.

Ryuji digs out his wallet and chucks it in Ann’s direction before launching himself at Akira’s lips.

It’s the best birthday he’s ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ann ordered like three different flavours of cake and futaba shoves ryuji's face in one of them. a fight breaks out but it's ok bc haru saves the day with her homemade cupcakes. mishima definitely managed to get pictures of the entire thing though


	4. partners in crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of delinquents doing something they probably shouldn't in some corner of a library somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u squint this can also fit the "rivals" prompt
> 
> this is very short and kinda late bc i originally had a longer thing planned involving pranks and justified revenge except i realized i'm a loser and can't figure out an appropriate prank that's not too traumatizing and not too harmless
> 
> ALSO I GUESS THIS FIC IS NOW RATED T

“This is a terrible idea,” Ryuji says.

“Probably,” Akira agrees, but he doesn’t remove his hands from Ryuji’s hips. He’s grinning completely without guilt or shame, and Ryuji can’t help but grin back.

They’re in some anonymous corner of one of the libraries, Ryuji can’t remember which, only that he’s never been here before and of course he’s followed Akira blindly again. It’s a personal weakness of his—and both he and Akira knows it—that when Akira holds out a hand, Ryuji will take it, no questions asked. 

His ma always said that for all Ryuji’s tough guy exterior, he has a naive heart that he’ll never outgrow. But if it’s Akira, Ryuji thinks his little naive heart will probably be alright.

The lower level stacks are near empty this time of day, silent as always. Each footstep and breath feels like an echo. Ryuji only had a glimpse of the books on the shelves before he was unceremoniously pressed up against them—something about the histories of sex and psychology. Hilarious. He wouldn’t put it past Akira to have known exactly where he was steering them this whole time.

Akira is framed by the soft light in the strip of window above their heads. His dark curls form a fluffy halo, tempting Ryuji to shove his fingers into his hair and tug. He spares a moment to consider a bit more, but Akira’s showing none of his hesitations as he works his way up the side of Ryuji’s neck with his lips. So Ryuji reaches up, his other hand steady between Akira’s shoulder blades, and pulls on Akira’s hair.

“Fuck,” Akira hisses, head jerking back slightly. He stares at Ryuji, who stares right back, surprised. There’s a nice flush spreading across Akira’s usual unflappable expression.

Ryuji smiles, all teeth and narrow eyes.

“You like that, huh?” he whispers.

“Shut up,” Akira says back, and he leans in to make sure Ryuji does.

Hardcover edges and metal shelving dig into the small of Ryuji’s back. He’s nearly lost feeling in his legs, his knees are shaking so bad. But Akira’s hands hold him up, fingernails pressing into the back of his neck and fingertips slipping underneath the hem of his shirt to trace the bare skin there. They’ve done this before, making out and losing themselves in the electric sensation of each other, but—not like this. Not half-heartedly hiding in public, where anybody can catch them at any moment.

Ryuji’s never claimed to be good at making smart decisions. And Akira, well. He’s a terrible, terrible influence.

Akira’s teeth grazes Ryuji’s collarbone just as his fingers finally dip just past the waistband of his pants, and Ryuji jolts sharply. He nearly dislodges Akira, but Akira’s a stubborn ass, so he just. Bites down. Ryuji bites his lips to keep from moaning out loud. Frantically, he rakes his fingers down the back of Akira’s shirt. He feels the curve of Akira’s lips against his skin.

“You little shit,” Ryuji breathes. He tugs until Akira straightens enough for him to mash their mouths together. Akira makes an amused noise against his lips, and Ryuji forgets about the library, forgets about the sleep-deprived students in the study spaces scattered between the shelves, forgets about worldly things like consequences or reality. All he knows is the ridiculous, perfect boy in his arms.

Sudden footsteps crash through the euphoria, and Ryuji grips the back of Akira’s shirt until Akira pulls back. They both freeze, listening hard. The footsteps are coming closer. Ryuji shoves at Akira until they’re standing a foot apart. Scrambling to right their clothes and hair to not look like a pair of horny idiots with an exhibitionism kink, Akira waves at Ryuji to slip out the other end of the bookshelf, away from the footsteps. Ryuji nearly trips in his hurry to follow.

They weave around the bookshelves, taking quiet steps and trying not to look like criminals escaping a crime scene. Akira’s already back to his cool, calm, and collected facade. Ryuji envies him, sometimes, but most times he just wants to kiss that quiet, confident grace off him.

That thought isn’t helping him out of this situation.

Somehow, they make it out of the library and into the afternoon sunshine. The sun is starting to set, and Akira looks like he’s glowing in the soft, warm light. Some of his hair at the back of his head is still sticking up from where Ryuji was attacking it with his hand. Ryuji smiles, fondness blooming in his chest.

“You can cross that off your bucket list,” Akira tells him.

Ryuji snorts. “You mean your bucket list.”

“Don’t deny it, you’re just as guilty as me.”

“Guess that makes us partners in crime, huh.”

“Well,” Akira says, walking close enough that their fingers bump together. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 


	5. free day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryuji and Akira's drawn-out getting-together story, told through the eyes of their friends.

Futaba thinks Ryuji is the funniest thing since cat memes. He’s louder than she is, and his emotions play out on his face like a movie. It’s hilarious, especially when he’s hanging around in the coffeeshop for no reason at all—Okay, fine, so maybe she does the exact same thing but  _ Leblanc  _ is basically her second home! And it’s not like she’s set up shop on the counter just to flirt with the barista. Which Ryuji’s doing a terrible job of, in her opinion.

But Akira likes him, so Futaba sips at her hot chocolate and laughs at them behind her laptop screen.

Today, Akira’s making Ryuji try some type of fancy macchiato. Futaba’s pretty sure none of those drinks are actually on the menu here, but Sojiro has somehow placed enough trust in Akira to let him run the shop however he wants when he’s not here. Seriously, sometimes Futaba thinks Sojiro has half a mind to adopt the guy. But she likes Akira, even if he tends to tease her sometimes and ruffle her hair other times.

Ryuji hates coffee. But he likes Akira, and Akira likes coffee, so Futaba sits in her corner and pulls out a camera, ready for the unflattering expressions Ryuji makes when the caffeine hits. She has an entire folder dedicated to them. She hasn’t had a reason to use them for anything, but Ryuji knows it exists, and he keeps trying to convince her to delete it. Fat chance. This is how she shows affection! What better friend would use up so much memory space for pictures of you?

She watches through the lens as Ryuji takes a cautious sip. Akira’s watching him with quiet expectation. Ryuji looks at him, and then slowly takes another sip. Futaba blinks. She’s never seen that kind of smile on Akira’s face before. She turns back to Ryuji, who puts down the glass and says something she’s too far away to hear. It makes Akira laugh.

There’s a spot of whipped cream on Ryuji’s mouth. Akira reaches out with his thumb to swipe it away. They’re both looking at each other like they’ve forgotten the rest of the world exists.

“Oh my god,” Futaba whispers.

She saves these pictures in another file, rightfully titled  _ akiryu manifesto. _ Ann’s going to be so smug.

 

 

 

Akira didn’t come back to the dorms last night. 

Yusuke closes the door behind him as he inspects Akira’s side of the room. His bed is made, his things neat and orderly as always. Akira doesn’t have a lot of belongings, and he’s even more organized that Yusuke is. For the first few weeks, Yusuke thought he was living with a ghost. But now, he knows that Akira prefers to fill his days with things to do, to feel productive, to feel purpose.

Yusuke understands that feeling well.

He knows Akira is a responsible person and that he doesn’t need to worry about him. Akira’s not a child, after all. But as a roommate, he can’t help but wonder about these nights, more frequently recently, where Akira goes missing and doesn’t return until the next day’s classes are done. 

He knows that Akira’s hometown is at least two hours’ train ride away and he moved into the dorms by himself. Yusuke has never heard nor seen any visiting relatives or friends. It’s not like Yusuke has any room to speak of in that department either, but at least he has the excuse of having lived in this city his entire life. Perhaps Akira has made fast friends here. He’s a quiet guy, but Yusuke has always felt at ease in his company. It’s not hard to picture Akira making new friends left and right.

Yusuke looks up from his thoughts when he hears the lock turn. The door opens to reveal Akira, dressed in his usual skinny jeans and that effortlessly artful bedhead of his. Yusuke does a double take at the baggy purple hoodie he’s wearing.

“Hello, Akira,” he says. “Is that new?”

Akira nods at him. He blinks as he follows Yusuke’s gaze. “Oh, this? Probably not. It’s not mine.”

“It’s not your hoodie?”

“No,” says Akira distractedly, searching for his notes and books, “It’s Ryuji’s.”

Yusuke doesn’t know this Ryuji. He must be a really close friend, if he’s willing to lend Akira his hoodie. “It’s a nice hoodie,” Yusuke says.

“It is,” Akira agrees. “It’s so soft.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. Gotta get to class.” Akira pauses in the doorway. He glances at the portfolio in Yusuke’s hands, and then meets his eyes. “Hey, do you want to catch dinner tonight?”

“At the dining hall?”

“I was thinking off campus. Ryuji said there’s an all-you-can-eat sushi place near where he lives, and he’s inviting his friends, so I thought maybe you’d like to come with?”

Yusuke smiles. “How can I say no to all-you-can-eat?”

Akira grins at him. “See you later, then.”

As the door closes behind Akira, Yusuke sets out to find a clean outfit for dinner later that evening. He’s not very good at being a sociable person, but since Akira invited him... He hums to himself. It’s certainly a privilege, to become friends with someone as kind as Akira. Whoever this Ryuji is, he must also be an incredible person. Yusuke can’t wait to meet him.

 

 

 

Ryuji’s distracted today. Makoto frowns, watching him from across the table. She doesn’t really mind since she’s the one that agreed to tutor him anyway, but he’s not even trying to hide the fact that he has his phone out over his textbook and he’s texting away with a smile tugging at his lips.

She puts down her own pencil and leans her elbows on the table. “Who are you texting?” she asks.

Immediately, Ryuji drops his phone. He’s blushing, Makoto realizes. He reaches up to scratch his cheek, eyes avoiding hers. He fidgets with his phone.

“Nobody. Nothing. Sorry.”

“Really, Ryuji,” she sighs. “I’m not mad. We’ve been at this long enough, anyway, a break is fine.”

“Yeah, ha,” he says. “Thanks?”

“But I’m curious. Who’s making you blush like that?”

“I’m not blushing!”

Makoto holds up her hands. “Okay, okay, you’re not blushing.” She pauses. “Is it that coffeeshop guy that Ann told me about?”

Ryuji gapes at her. “Since when do you gossip with Ann?”

“Since we started attending the free yoga class trials together.”

Groaning, Ryuji leans forwards until his forehead hits his textbook with a dull thump. “I have terrible friends.”

Makoto pats him on the back. “I think it’s wonderful that he makes you happy. There’s nothing wrong with having a crush.”

“It’s not a crush! We’re just friends.”

“Oh, really? Sorry for misunderstanding.”

Ryuji sighs, sitting up. “The thing is, you’re so sincere you probably are sorry.” He scratches his neck. “I do like him,” he says quietly, “but we’ve only just met, so...”

“You want to take it slow?”

He shrugs. “See where it goes, I guess? I mean, he’s very chill and I  _ think  _ he likes spending time with me, too, so I just... I don’t want to mess it up.”

“I’m sure you won’t, Ryuji.”

“Thanks, Makoto.”

By the time they clear up their table and wave goodbye, Ryuji’s back to smiling at his phone. Makoto smiles at his back. He’ll be just fine, she knows.

 

 

 

“And Akira just stood there and laughed at me,” Ryuji is saying over by the orchids, “can you believe that?”

Haru hums sympathetically. She trims another rose. Ever since Ryuji’s shifts began to align with hers, the flower shop has become more lively. She’s not a very talkative person, but Ryuji doesn’t seem to mind. She doesn’t mind his chattering, so it works out.

Lately, he’s been talking about a certain boy. She’s heard all about how they first met and their progression into friendship. He complains about Akira just as much as he praises him. Haru thinks it’s kind of cute.

“He’s the worst,” Ryuji says, but he’s smiling so Haru knows he means the exact opposite.

Haru finishes the last rose just as Ryuji walks over to the counter. She holds up the rose. “For you,” she says.

“Oh, thanks?” He takes it carefully. Ryuji looks rough around the edges, and maybe he is, but Haru knows he has the gentlest hands. “What for?” 

She smiles. “For you and your Akira-kun.”

He sputters, but he doesn’t try to give the rose back. Haru covers her mouth with a hand, and laughs.

 

 

 

Goro thinks Akira is an idiot. He’s too quiet, too composed, too  _ nice _ . He’ll go out of his way to do the right thing for strangers even if it costs him. Goro can understand kindness but he can’t understand the hero complex. So he tries not to think about Akira at all costs.

Then his project partner, Ryuji, starts texting him and talking about him and pretty much dating him. Goro’s not a bitter person. He’s just a bit salty about things. And a lovestruck Ryuji means a very distracted Ryuji means a bad grade, so Goro figures he’s justified in feeling salty about this.

“And you’re sure the two of you aren’t dating yet,” Goro says.

“We’re not,” Ryuji sighs, and he looks so put out Goro almost wants to comfort him. Almost. 

“What’s so great about him, anyway?”

Ryuji squints at him. “Didn’t you use to date him?”

“Yes, well, we broke up for a reason.”

“And what was that?” Ryuji asks, curious. “All I know is that you guys had a huge fight and that campus security was called. Akira says you gave him that scar on his left shoulder.”

Goro grins. “That’s good to hear.”

“I don’t get you.”

“And I don’t get you, for falling for Akira for some reason.”

“I really want to call you a hypocrite, but your history with him sounds really sketchy.”

“Thank you.” Goro shrugs. “It’s in the past. Listen, if you like him so much, just tell him. Akira is too much of a nice guy to pressure you otherwise. He’s...  _ patient _ .”

“I know,” Ryuji says wistfully.

Goro doesn’t roll his eyes because he has some class, thank you very much. He pushes his laptop closer to Ryuji to at least try and get some work done, because he didn’t go through all that trouble of fighting the sorority girls for this study room for it to go to waste. But he’s already making plans in his head.

Goro doesn’t consider himself a very nice person. Not like Akira. And definitely not  _ for  _ Akira. But he needs the grades for this class, and Ryuji, unfortunately is key to that. So while Goro isn’t a nice person, he’s someone that gets things done. And really, this is all in his best interest, if you think about it.

So as soon as Ryuji and him part ways that afternoon, Goro heads straight for  _ Leblanc _ with a very carefully and strongly worded speech in mind for one Kurusu Akira.

 

 

 

Ann doesn’t really understand what goes through Ryuji’s head. Probably a lot of things, all at once. He’s never been able to sit still, not in all these years she’s known him. He talks a lot, talks too much, but he listens to her when she speaks, so Ann has decided to extend the same courtesy to him.

And sometimes Ryuji is all quiet. It’s strange, when he shuts his mouth and retreats back inside his head. Ann knows he isn’t very good at being honest about his feelings, so she worries, sometimes. She doesn’t say anything, though. Just waits until he figures it out.

So when he shows up at her apartment and just sits there, slumped into the couch cushions, Ann carefully perches on the armrest next to his head. She waits.

She’s already scrolled through her twitter feed twice when Ryuji finally shifts his face away from the couch and sighs loudly. He looks tired. Ann reaches out and pokes him between the eyes.

“Ow,” he says.

“What’s up? You didn’t come all the way here just to pout, did you?”

He rolls until he’s staring up at the ceiling. Ann hands him one of the throw pillows that Shiho picked out. He hugs it to his chest, and sighs again.

“Why are feelings a thing?” he asks.

“Good question,” Ann says. “What kind of feelings are we talking about here?”

He waves a hand through the air. “Feelings. Like, the weird bubbly ones in your chest when you see that one person. The warm feeling, the squishy feeling—and the heavy feeling, the ones where it aches and aches and you don’t know how to make it stop.”

Ann frowns. “Is this about Akira? This is about Akira. What happened? I thought you were finally over the denial stage about your crush?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And I like him. A lot.” Ryuji sighs again. He buries his face with the pillow.

Ann taps the pillow. “Ryuji, talk to me. Did he hurt you?”

“No,” he says, voice muffled. “He’s good. He’s perfect.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Ryuji stays quiet. Ann has half a mind to text Futaba, demanding Akira’s number. She very well could have gotten it herself with how much she frequents that coffeeshop, but she didn’t want to yet. She wanted Ryuji to introduce her to him again, one day. Hopefully within the next two weeks so she doesn’t lose her bet, but still.

“I don’t know what I’m doing?” he says finally, lifting the pillow away. He frowns at the flower print. “Like, we hang out all the time. We eat together, we play games, we go running, and we text all the time. I don’t even think I spend that much time with you.”

“That’s ‘cause we’re just friends and not in that weird not-yet-dating limbo.”

“Yeah, so.” Ryuji scrunches up his face. “Am I dating Akira?”

Ann shrugs. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”

“I don’t know how to bring it up? It’s just, man. I really like what we have going now. I don’t want to change that, you know?”

Ann hums. “You know, that’s fine, too. A relationship is nobody else’s business but whoever is in that relationship—that’s what I think.”

Ryuji looks up at her, upside down. “Wow, you sounded real wise for a moment there, Blondie.”

“Shush, you’re a blondie, too!”

He laughs, sitting up to dodge her jabbing fingers. Ann relaxes at the sound. “Thanks, Ann. I think it’s just... been a long time.”

“I’m happy you’re happy,” Ann tells him seriously.

He smiles at her. “Me, too.”

 

 

 

When Ryuji and Akira finally show up to lunch, hand in hand, Futaba whoops and Ann hollers at them. But they’re smiling, and Ryuji can’t help but smile, too. Akira tightens his grip on his hand, and they step forwards to join their friends, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yusuke: i thought you two were dating this whole time?  
> ann: they basically were, yeah
> 
> akechi, in his bitter corner with the strongest espresso: you're all very welcome


	6. longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryuji and Akira are caught in a cold war. It effin' sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess this is also partly inspired by day 2's "first fight" prompt

_ No new messages _ .

Ryuji grinds his teeth before he catches himself. He shoves his phone into his pocket and busies himself with gathering his things for school. He’s not going to be the one to break first. He’s not. Not this time. 

Stupid Akira.

 

 

 

“Ryuji-kun,” Haru greets him. She lingers beside his empty table, glancing around curiously. “Where’s Akira? It’s rare seeing you eating lunch alone.”

At the mention of his stupid, stubborn, loser of a boyfriend, Ryuji scowls. “Who cares about Akira.” He stabs his chopsticks into his fried pork.

Haru blinks. “Oh, are the two of you fighting?”

“No,” says Ryuji, “we’re giving each other the silent treatment. It’s a cold war.”

She sets down her tray across from him. Ryuji continues to stuff rice into his mouth. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“Fine.”

“You don’t really sound fine. Or look fine.”

Ryuji swallows, and sighs. “Guess not. Fighting with your boyfriend sucks.”

“It’s okay,” Haru says, going for reassuring. “It happens, right? All relationships have their ups and downs.”

“Yeah,” says Ryuji glumly. “I guess.”

“Um, well. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Haru-san.”

“Any time.”

 

 

 

By the end of the day, Akira still hasn’t messaged him. Ryuji stuffs his earbuds in his ears and stalks off towards the train station.

“I don’t need him,” he mutters to himself. 

It doesn’t make him feel any better.

 

 

 

“Okay,” Ann says, dropping a pillow on Ryuji’s face. “Spill the beans. What’s going on? You’re sulking so loudly I can’t hear my tv show.”

Ryuji slowly peels the pillow off his face. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry, that’s weird.” Ann leans in to peer at his expression. “Seriously, what happened? Should I call Akira?”

Ryuji makes a noise like a cat’s tail being stepped on. Ann raises her eyebrows.

“O-kay,” she says, dragging out the syllables. “So, Akira is the problem, then?” Her eyes narrow. “Did he hurt you? Should I march over there and avenge you?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You’re still a terrible liar, Ryuji.”

He lets out a frustrated sound. “Fine, it’s not fine! We haven’t texted or talked or seen in each other in, like, five effin’ days! This is stupid because we have classes in the same friggin’ buildings and my afternoons are so  _ free  _ now, Ann, you know I finished my readings and assignments for next week already? I’ve officially hit a new low.”

“Whoa,” Ann says. She frowns. “Why don’t you just go see him?”

“And let him win? No fricken way.”

She sighs. “Why are you boys always clinging so desperately onto your pride like this. You obviously miss him. Just call him or something.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“ _ I’ll  _ call him for you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Ann throws up her hands. “Do you want me to bring out the big tub of ice cream, then?”

“Yes, please.”

There’s a hand patting his head. “If you guys don’t solve this soon, I’m going to kick some ass, though, okay?”

Ryuji nods. He stays there on her couch until the ice cream is all gone and the last bus is on its way. He hates that his mind still wanders towards a quiet boy with messy hair probably closing up shop in a coffeeshop tucked in some alley. His chest aches.

 

 

 

**From: orange gremlin**   
_ can u stop avoiding akira _ _   
_ _ hes being all mopey and its getting on my nerves _

**To: orange gremlin**   
_ i’m not avoiding him _ _   
_ _ HE’S avoiding ME _

**From: orange gremlin**   
_ ugH UR BOTH BEING STUPID _

**To: orange gremlin**   
_ YOURE STUPID _

**From: orange gremlin**   
_ DONT CALL ME STUPID _ _   
_ _ IM CALLING THE POLICE _

 

 

 

Makoto finds him in the recreation centre after most everyone has gone home. It’s been torrential rain outside since last night, and honestly, Ryuji feels it. It’s been torrential rain inside his head for the past week, really.

“I don’t think this is the right way to deal with your problem,” Makoto tells him, “but if you’re going to vent your frustrations, you might as well do it right, and do it safely.”

So Ryuji follows her instructions, and under her watchful eye, punches the shit out of the punching bag. The room stinks of sweat and his shirt is sticking to his back. His legs burn from working the treadmill all afternoon. He can barely think straight. But that’s the goal, isn’t it.

She doesn’t ask him any questions. Ryuji’s thankful for that. She walks him to the bus stop and watches him climb shakily onto the bus. 

“Talk to him,” is all she says before the door closes, and her red umbrella shrinks into the distance.

 

 

 

Day eight. Ryuji wakes up to sunshine streaming in through his window. He forgot to shut the blinds last night. He rolls over and sits up and just stares across his room for a moment. There’s a shirt hanging off the back of his door, collared and nondescript and with  _ Kurusu Akira  _ written all over it. 

Ryuji sighs. Time to face the music, he supposes. He’s too tired of waiting for a message that won’t come. He’s too tired of the soreness in his chest that’s less about hurt now and more about missing something all too familiar, something he didn’t know how good it was until it’s gone.

He may be a stubborn idiot, but he’s not a masochistic one.

So he gathers his things, grabs that shirt off the hook, and takes a deep breath. He’s going to suck it up. He’s going to find Akira, and they’re going to talk. And if this is the end, fine. Whatever. Ryuji just wants to see his dumb face again.

Akira’s waiting for him outside the apartment. Ryuji startles, nearly dropping his backpack in surprise.

“What—What are you—”

“Ryuji,” Akira says, and Ryuji shuts up. His hair is messier than usual, signs of frustrated fingers raking through them; a nervous habit. There are bags under his eyes, and he looks about as miserable as Ryuji has been feeling.

“I’m sorr—”

“Can we just—”

Ryuji holds up his hands as Akira closes his mouth. They stare at each other, trying to drink each other in with their eyes alone. The space between them feels too large, too much. Feels wrong.

Akira opens his mouth again, but Ryuji beats him to it, blurting, “I’ve missed you. So much. Too much, probably. You’re an idiot and I hate you but I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want to break up, please, let’s just forget it and move on, Akira, gods I’ve missed you so fucking much—”

“Ryuji,” Akira says. He’s stepping closer now, closing the distance between them, and Ryuji lets him. He reaches out and takes Ryuji’s hand, he reaches out and traces a finger down Ryuji’s jaw. “You’re right. You’re right, we’ve been really stupid, I missed you, too—”

Ryuji doesn’t remember who leaned in first. He doesn’t remember why they were fighting in the first place. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Akira is here now, his warmth so familiar and so comforting pressed up against him, pressing him back against his front door. 

The tightness gripping his chest finally eases, lifts, fades away. In its place, something bright glows, spreading through his ribs and all the way to his fingertips. Ryuji holds onto that light, vows to memorize it so he never makes the same mistake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akira buys ann a new tub of Emergency Feels ice cream and ryuji gifts futaba a new set of those ugly cat LINE stickers she likes for some reason
> 
> also draft that didn't make it in:  
> ryuji complaining about akira to akechi and both of them getting a bit drunk and akechi advising ryuji to just. straight up have a fist fight with akira. avoid his right hook, though, he's got a mean one;  
> ryuji: do you pick fights with everyone that you don't agree with, or  
> akechi: listen i was born to win arguments and sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do  
> ryuji: remind me to never be on the opposite side of a court against you


	7. reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira comes home to Ryuji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are, day seven and the first and most vivid scene that started me on this week-long journey in the first place. listen. it's not a milktea fic until there's an excuse to shameless put that "sleepy cuddles" tag in there
> 
> also, lmao, i realized i completely forgot about morgana's existence since like, chapter two. i'm gomen, kitty-san

 

The crowd at the train station is relentless. Families and tourists and people dressed in their business best rush towards their train lines. Ryuji leans against the wall and waits. It’s a weekend, so there are more people than usual. He stares from his spot, scanning each face, searching for that familiar head of black curls.

He finds him easily. From his profile, the boy looks like any other college kid milling about the plaza. His clothes are plain and nondescript, his head is down with his headphones in. But to Ryuji, he stands out like a lighthouse in the dark.

Ryuji takes a moment to just look at him. Even from a distance, Ryuji can tell the difference in his stance. His shoulders are slumped, his face tilted towards the ground. His clothes look baggier than the usual tight-fitting clothes he likes. He looks fine, but... slow. Like he’s carrying something heavy.

“Akira!” Ryuji calls. He weaves through the crowd, never taking his eyes off the other boy.

Footsteps slowing, Akira turns. Ryuji’s close enough now to see his eyes widen when Akira sees him. Akira stays where he is, gaze lowered to the floor. Ryuji stops in front of him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” says Akira. His voice is quiet, but it’s a weary kind of quiet. It makes Ryuji’s heart clench. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come pick you up.” Ryuji hesitates. “How was your hometown?”

Akira shrugs. “Tiring.”

Ryuji looks at him. This close, he can see the slight bruises under Akira’s eyes. His glasses are smudged, like he can’t even find the effort to keep them clean. The Akira he knows would never have let himself sink that low. 

But this Akira is still his Akira. And Akira needs him more than ever right now.

“Hey,” says Ryuji, “want to stay over at my place tonight?”

For the first time since Akira turned around at the sound of his voice, Akira lifts his gaze and meets Ryuji’s. His eyes are wide, and there’s a vulnerability to be found there that almost makes Ryuji want to look away. He doesn’t. 

“Is that—What about your mother?”

Ryuji shrugs. “You know she loves you. C’mon.”

“Okay.”

“You want to drop off your stuff first, or...?”

“I can take it with me tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

They make their way through the train station in silence. Ryuji offered to take Akira’s bag, and to his credit, he doesn’t flinch when Akira hands it over without any protests. He leads the way up the stairs, Akira following closely behind. There’s a slight pressure at the back of his shirt. Akira’s hand, fingers twisting into the fabric. Ryuji keeps his head facing forwards. He desperately wants to reach back and take Akira’s hand, but there are too many people here. He settles for quickening his steps, wanting to make it back to the apartment so he can hold Akira and piece him back together like Akira’s done for him so many times in the past.

His ma is just about to leave when he opens the door. She greets him and Akira without missing a beat, though her eyes linger on Akira’s lowered head. She turns to Ryuji, but Ryuji is already nodding.

“There’s food in the fridge,” she says. “I won’t be back until late, but please make yourself at home, Akira-kun.”

“Thank you,” Akira says, still staring at the floor.

Ryuji nudges him towards his bedroom. His ma and him both watch as Akira, quiet as a shadow, makes his way down the hall and disappears around the corner.

“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” his ma says.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” His ma smiles. “Take care of him, Ryuji.”

“I will.”

The apartment feels muted when the door closes behind her. Ryuji takes a breath, and then shuffles around the kitchen to make food. His mind is down the hall with another boy, but he busies his hands and tells himself to be patient. Give him space.

Akira comes out just as Ryuji’s taking the dishes out of the steamer. He’s wearing Ryuji’s clothes, the looser ones that Ryuji likes to wear on lazy days, and his hair is slightly damp. He smells like Ryuji’s shampoo.

“Hey,” Ryuji says. “Doing okay?”

Akira nods. “Better.”

“Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

They eat in silence, but it’s a more comfortable silence. Ryuji pretends Akira isn’t playing with his food more than eating it, and Akira pretends Ryuji isn’t watching him across the table.

They leave the dirty dishes in the sink. Ryuji follows Akira into his bedroom, smiling slightly at the way Akira falls into Ryuji’s bed: face-first and limbs sprawled out carelessly. He perches on the side of the bed next to Akira’s head.

“Everyone missed you, you know,” he says. His voice feels much too loud in the quiet of his bedroom, but Akira shifts, one eye peering up at him from within his bedsheets. Ryuji keeps going. “Ann keeps trying to organize a trip down to the beach, since we’re on vacay and all, but it didn’t feel right if we were missing you. Yusuke says he’s missing his best art subject, and Futaba keeps whining that there’s nobody to prank since you’re away.”

Akira snorts. “You’re here, though.”

“Yeah, that’s why you gotta rescue me from her evil little gremlin claws.”

“Will do.”

Ryuji reaches out and sinks his fingers into Akira’s hair. Akira’s eye close, and he sighs slowly. “Boss-san also says that Mona misses you a lot. He keeps scratching at your apron, apparently.”

“Mm. Gotta buy him some treats.”

“We’ve all been waiting for you.”

Akira turns his face into Ryuji’s leg. His arm slips around Ryuji’s waist and squeezes. Ryuji continues to stroke his hair. He almost misses the soft, “I’ve missed you guys so much.”

Gently, Ryuji nudges at Akira until he releases him. He shuffles until he’s lying down next to Akira. Their limbs find their way around each other with familiar ease. Akira buries his face into Ryuji’s chest, eyelashes brushing along the skin by Ryuji’s collarbone. Ryuji tucks his chin over the top of Akira’s head. He runs a hand up and down Akira’s spine.

“Hey,” he says softly, “I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ll always be here for you when you need it.”

“I know,” Akira mumbles into his shirt. He tightens his grip on the hem of Ryuji’s shirt. “Can we stay? Like this. For a bit.”

“As long as you need, boyfriend.”

Akira huffs. Ryuji can feel the curve of his mouth when he replies, “Thanks, boyfriend.”

Ryuji hums. He stares at the pale cream of his wall and counts the steady rhythm of Akira’s heart beating along next to his. He curls around the boy in his arms, and holds on.

“Ryuji?” Akira says eventually.

“Hm?”

“I’m home.”

Ryuji smiles. He leans back to press a kiss into Akira’s temple. “Welcome home.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ryuji: maybe "boyfriend" will be our always  
> akira: that's only because you always burst into flames when i call you babe
> 
>  
> 
> thank you for everybody's nice comments and support this entire week! i'm still learning their characterisations and i definitely need to keep watching the let's play i was following, but i've had a lot of fun this week. thanks for reading, i hope i'll be back in the future with more love for these two!!

**Author's Note:**

> @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


End file.
